Through the Tear
by ian7285
Summary: a Bioshock Infinite story set in the universe established by "A Finite Infinity." Elizabeth sets off to find a Booker like her own.
1. Longing

**If you have not read "A Finite Infinity," I suggest reading it first as a prelude to this story.**

* * *

Elizabeth sat silently in the large tree she had brought in from a tear. Her back lay against the trunk, and her hands were in her lap. She fidgeted with the thimble on her finger as she looked on. Booker, this world's version, was laying in a large hammock. He was reading a book to his Anna, who lay in his arms. The young girl was probably thirteen and clearly content to spend the afternoon with her father.

"I miss you, Booker," she sighed.

"It seems silly to miss someone who is alive."

"But also dead."

"Yes, she did drown hers."

"They're all hers, are they not?"

Elizabeth didn't need to look. The Luteces crossed paths with her once in a while, and the surprise at their appearance had quickly faded.

"It's not the same," she argued.

Robert scoffed. "Emotional intelligence suggests so, but in truth…"

"They are more or less the same," Rosalind finished. "Aside from some constants and variables."

"She does need him, though. Remember the one who went to Rapture?"

"Which one is that?"

"The underwater one."

"I remember the city," Rosalind quipped. "I meant which girl?"

Elizabeth lifted her head. "I went there?"

"In a sense, yes. One version went to take care of some unfinished business."

"She missed DeWitt as well. Started talking to quasi-existent manifestation of him."

"Not unlike the siren Lady Comstock."

"I don't blame her." Elizabeth drew her knees up to her chest, considering the other Elizabeth.

"Why not speak to him, then?" Rosalind's hand touched Elizabeth's hair softly, showing sympathy without comfort.

"He has a daughter."

"This one perhaps," the male Lutece agreed. "But in a few, he is alone."

Elizabeth shook her head. "My Booker is dead."

Robert looked exasperated. "Died, dies, will die."

"There's always a man, Elizabeth Prime."

The Lamb of Columbia furrowed her brow. "Prime?"

"Something we've taken to calling you," Rosalind explained.

Elizabeth stood, balancing on the thick branch. "Do you think I can do it? I could be… important to another Booker?"

"Many parents tell their children they can accomplish anything…"

"But most children lack the knack for trans-dimensional passage and restructuring."

The two flickered out of the current world before Elizabeth could speak again. She thought about the idea. Another Booker? It wouldn't be the same. She had to remember that. Still…

The interdimensional girl looked down over the bough. She stepped off and fell towards the earth. Just before ground could meet her, she closed her eyes. Booker and Anna kept reading in the hammock, unaware of her departure.

Elizabeth reopened her eyes. She recognized the sight in front of her, a large white monolith in front of a pool of water. She made her way down the street and stopped in front of a newspaper stall. A young black man nodded at her politely, and she smiled back at him. She glanced at one of the papers:

THE WASHINTON HERALD

November 12, 1908

PHONEBOOTH NOW EXCEED 100 IN D.C. METRO AREA!

SALTONSTALL ELECTED!

GIRL FOUND BY LOCAL DETECTIVE!

Elizabeth picked up the paper and started reading the last story aloud. "Local private detective Booker DeWitt returned the kidnapped daughter of Senator James E. Watson on Wednesday evening. Miss Ruby Watson was discovered by DeWitt in a warehouse on the Potomac, officials say. Senator Watson's cousin, Annabelle, called DeWitt 'as brave as he is charming…'"

"Crazy, innit?" the stall worker commented.

"Yes, definitely." She folded the paper neatly and set it back on the pile. "Could you direct me to the nearest pay phone?"

The man nodded. "Just got a new one installed on 12th. It's a block down on your right."

"Thank you." Elizabeth gave him a polite nod and started down the street. When she was out of sight, she allowed herself to tear across the distance. The portal closed behind her as soon as she stepped through it, and Elizabeth found herself in front of the phonebooth. She stepped inside and scanned the phonebook, or rather the one-page list attached to the kiosk. In another world, she remembered seeing a thick yellow book that sat under the phones there. She wondered how long it would take to reach that point in linear time. She found DeWitt Investigations almost immediately and brought in some change through a tear to pay for the call.

The phone range twice. "DeWitt," came a deep voice. She froze. She'd encountered a slew of Bookers in her mission to erase Comstock, but talking to this one was different. She wanted to be a part of this Booker's life.

"Hello? If this is a prank call, I swear – "

"It's not a prank," she blurted out. "I need your help."

There was a pause before he spoke. "I'm not taking new clients right now. Got my plate full."

"Book– Mr. DeWitt. I saw your name in the paper. Please."

Another long pause. There was a rustling sound on the other end. "We can meet."

"Great," Elizabeth breathed. She hadn't realized how long she'd been holding her breath. She skimmed over the phone list again and stopped on a name that sounded like a restaurant. "What about the Old Ebbitt Grill? Eight o'clock?"

"Let's make it seven. I have somewhere to be at eight."

Elizabeth tried not to laugh. Time was irrelevant to her. He could have said next year, and it would only be a moment for her. "Seven it is, Mr. DeWitt." She hung up the phone. She was going to meet her father again. She closed her eyes, imagining the time and date. A flash of light surrounded her, and when she reopened her eyes it was night. A sign in front of her read "Old Ebbitt Grill." As she entered through the front door, she glimpsed a clock above the hostess. 7:13. Ironically, she was late.


	2. Risk

**Hey there! Someone asked me about Elizabeth in "Burial at Sea," who is implied to be Elizabeth Prime, as the others seemingly vanished at the end of Infinite proper. Of course, the fact that we see Booker in BaS means not all Comstocks, and therefore Elizabeths, ceased to exist immediately following Infinite's ending. So we're running with BaS as another tear-wielding Elizabeth (and because the stories are less interesting if we are left with only Annas). Stay tuned to see where it goes!**

* * *

The hostess led Elizabeth past a set of booths to a corner table. The Old Ebbitt Grill was busy tonight, and she was grateful for the guidance through the sea of patrons. She sat and looked across at the figure in front of her. Booker was obscured by a menu, which he was holding deliberately in front of his face.

"Mr. DeWitt?"

Booker lowered the menu, and Elizabeth's heart nearly leaped out of her chest. She'd spent a lot of time – in a manner of speaking – drowning Booker or stabbing him or simply watching from afar the ones who never attended the baptism. Here, however, was a Booker like hers. One she needn't harm. Here was her father.

"I didn't get your name, miss."

She snapped her attention back to the room. Booker was wearing an ill-fitting suit. He looked a little ragged, but no more than her own had on a regular basis. "My name is… Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth…?"

She struggled. She was a DeWitt by birth. She was a Comstock by force. Neither of which she wanted to say out loud. "Elizabeth Lutece."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Lutece." He reached out his hand. She took it, and the bittersweet joy at their reunion overwhelmed her. There was a flash, and suddenly they were in front of a lighthouse. Elizabeth held her grip on him. Booker drew a broomhandle pistol.

"What the hell is going on? The Pinkertons behind this? I told them I wanted no part – "

"No! No one sent me. You – you're dreaming, Booker."

"Bullshit."

"You are. See?"

There was another flash, and when Booker turned, he saw only a bed.

"We were in a restaurant…"

"Just a dream, Booker. Lie down."

He crawled into the bed in a daze.

"Where do you live?" Elizabeth continued.

"2029 Connecticut Avenue," DeWitt mumbled.

Another flash. There were in his apartment.

"Go to sleep, Booker."

"What about our meeting?"

"There is no meeting." Elizabeth gave him a small smile then flashed forward again.

It was the same night, or so it appeared. Booker was fast asleep now. Elizabeth sat on a trunk at the end of the bed and watched him. He looked so tired… The room around her was sparse and a bit dingy in truth. She couldn't help but think that he'd be faring better with someone in his life. A daughter perhaps.

A tear rolled down Elizabeth's cheek. Her loneliness was eating away at her, and she longed for something real. The Luteces never stayed for long when their paths crossed. She would never be able to settle down in a single world with a potential suitor. All she had was Booker, but he wasn't even _her_ Booker. This man wasn't her father.

Or was he? Elizabeth jumped up and opened a tear. She began jumping through worlds, cities in the sky, under the sea, in space, underground, and on land. Eventually she found them. The Luteces were sitting on a wall, a picnic between them. She could see on this side of the wall that people had crudely painted it in an assortment of colors. A sign read "ACHTUNG," which she thought might be German.

"Lutece!" Elizabeth yelled. The twins looked down at her.

"Do you mean me?" Robert asked.

"Or me?" Rosalind posed.

"I need your help. Both of you."

The Luteces flickered out of view then reappeared just in front of her.

"Is it a question…"

"Or a favor?"

"We are much more partial to questions."

Elizabeth bit her lip. "You brought Booker over and over again to find me. When he switched universes, it damaged his memory."

"Damaged, did it?" Rosalind raised an eyebrow.

"Or did it simply change?"

"He… he remembered two lives." Elizabeth struggled to ask the next question. "Could someone live like that? Long-term?"

"The problem isn't the quantity of recollections," Robert explained.

"It's the reconciliation of them," his sister finished.

"If one were able to make the memories of both lives connect, there would be no side-effects."

"No nose-bleeds," Elizabeth ventured. She looked at the Luteces, who seemed pleased with her comprehension. She thanked them both, then in an instant, she was gone.

The room she found herself in was unfamiliar but unmistakably the right one. It was a small tent, utilitarian. Booker stood with his back to her, shoving his personal belongings into a small bag.

"Mr. Dewitt?"

Booker spun around. "Jesus, how the hell did you get in here?"

"Booker, did you go to a baptism today?"

"No…" Booker eyed her suspiciously. "There's one going on down by the river if you're looking for it."

"I don't know how to explain this… We've all got choices, don't we?"

"I suppose so." Booker set the bag down. He crossed his arms, unsure what to do with the cryptic young woman in front of him.

"For instance, you could go to that baptism and get dunked by some holy man."

"Wouldn't do me much good."

"You could go and change your mind at the last minute."

"Suppose so."

"Or you could choose not to go at all."

"Which you've caught me attempting as we speak."

"Booker, what if there was one more option?"

"Who are you, lady?" His hand was moving close to the gun on his hip.

"I'm getting to that, I promise." Elizabeth turned around. She couldn't explain it properly. There was only one course. She lifted her hand, and a tear opened in front of her. She could her Booker draw the gun from its holster.

"What the fuck is that?!"

"It's a tear, Booker. It's another world. Another life." She reached through and pulled a flower from the other world. She held it out to him. He took it warily.

Booker stared at her, frightened. "I don't understand."

"You can leave and go on with your life if you want. You could get a place in New York, move to Washington, do whatever you please." She took a deep breath. "Or you can walk through this door. It won't be pleasant, and it will be terrifying, but you'll have a daughter. You'll be a hero."

"I could… have a daughter here." His voice cracked as he said it, unsure if the statement were true.

"It's possible," Elizabeth admitted. "Sometimes you have a daughter named Anna, and she loves you very much. Sometimes you don't. But there's one world… one place where you have a daughter called Elizabeth." Her voice shook, on the verge of tears. "She knows you better than every Anna and every Booker. And she's very lonely without her father."

A tear rolled down Booker's cheek. "I'm scared. Are you Death?" Elizabeth shook her head. Booker spoke fervently. "This can't be real. I'm sorry. I'll atone for my sins. I'll go to the baptism!"

"No," Elizabeth begged. "Just come with me."

A silence fell between them. A realization dawned on Booker. "Are you her? Are you… Elizabeth?"

The words brought Elizabeth to tears. She allowed herself to cry in front of her father but willed herself to stay strong. "Yes. Please come with me. Please." She held out her hand. Booker's brain was trying to keep up.

"Where are we going?" He let his hand lay on top of hers, and she clutched it longingly.

Elizabeth took a step through the tear. "To see the last Columbia again."


	3. Memory

The doorway closed as Booker stepped through with Elizabeth.

"What is this place?"

"You'll understand soon enough."

They were standing in one of the lush gardens of Columbia, a work of art by any standard. Elizabeth stared at her father.

"What are you looking at me like that for? Haven't you ever – " Booker paused. His hand passed over his upper lip, and Elizabeth could see he was wiping away blood. "Why – "

Booker collapsed. Elizabeth rushed to his side, laying his head in her lap. A snooty couple passed, giving her a look of passing curiosity then walking on. A few minutes passed before Booker DeWitt made a grumbling sound.

"Booker?"

"Goddammit, Elizabeth."

"Booker, do you recognize me?"

He sat up and looked her over. "I… I don't know. My life has a gap in it, like I don't know what's supposed to go there. I was packing, but I was also at the river."

"There's a memory overlap. The baptism is where your lives diverged. In one, you didn't go and ended up meeting me. In another, you went and then turned away from it. And in another…"

"I became Comstock." The pieces came together slowly. "Elizabeth. My girl…" He touched her face softly. She clasped his hand, trying to absorb the moment as much as possible.

"I remember. I can see giving you up and coming to Columbia and… dying. I can see you at Wounded Knee bringing me back her. It all fits. But why can't I see Comstock if I'm him?"

"Perhaps that life is too distant."

"Like a cousin once removed."

Booker and Elizabeth whipped around to see the Luteces standing over them.

"A bold move, Elizabeth Prime," Rosalind scolded.

"But seemingly worth the risk," her brother added, poking at DeWitt's face.

Elizabeth shook her head. "He can't remember all of it."

The female Lutece looked at her double. "It seems that an increase in dimensional crossing correlates with a decrease in the bleeding ghost phenomenon."

Robert turned towards Booker and Elizabeth. "That's what we've started calling it," he explained. "What we are calling it. What we will call it."

Elizabeth pondered this. "So he can remember the life I pulled him from…"

"And the one I saved you in," Booker chimed in.

"We did a lot of jumping. You might be missing some details." The Lamb took the False Shepherd's hand.

He smiled. "You can fill me in as we go, kiddo. And maybe those two – "

Booker turned to face the Luteces, but they had already gone. "I hate that."

"You get used to it," Elizabeth chuckled.

"Now what?" Booker asked.

"Let's get out of Columbia, for a start. I never want to see this place again."

"How about Paris?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Paris it is."


	4. Dad

**By the way, this story is inspired by the love of my life, who only finished BI a few days ago. I'm going to get her to play BaS soon. Anyway, here's to her for being the muse, and here's to you for being the audience. All my best - I**

* * *

Elizabeth caught her breath as the streets of Paris met her feet. Booker was behind her, smiling softly at the scene. She took his arm as they walked, admiring the view. She had avoided Paris until now. It hadn't seemed right to come without her father. It hadn't mattered without him.

"Where do you want to go?" she asked.

Booker shrugged. "Your lifelong dream, not mine."

They walked the cobblestone street, taking in the architecture and the culture. Elizabeth asked directions from an older woman about the nearest restaurant.

" _Dans la rue, sur la droite._ "

" _Merci, beaucoup!_ "

The woman smiled politely, and Booker looked confused. At the end of the road, they made a right. Booker pointed at a building with a small sign labeled " _Montres._ "

"That it?"

"No, Booker, they sell watches there."

He looked a little embarrassed but brushed it off. "Didn't want one anyways. They probably only sell wrist watches here."

Elizabeth was intrigued. "What's the problem with that?"

"They're… I don't know… feminine."

She grinned with amusement. "Give it about a decade, Booker. Soldiers will be wearing them left and right."

"Bullshit."

"You'll be trading in your pocket watch soon enough."

He frowned at that. For someone who was disinterested in most things and people, Booker was oddly passionate about timepieces.

" _This_ ," Elizabeth indicated. "is the restaurant."

She led him into a small but chic establishment and indicated to the host they'd like a table outside. He grabbed two menus and held the door for the pair as they migrated to the patio. Booker pulled out Elizabeth's chair and she give him a sweet smile as she sat.

"Such a gentleman," an American woman at a nearby table blurted out to her company.

"Only for my daughter," he replied in his best attempt at pleasantries.

The women fell silent. "He certainly doesn't look old enough." The second one muttered.

Booker rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Elizabeth. "Women like that remind me of why I loved your mother."

Elizabeth was shocked. She'd never him talk about her in his other life. Lady Comstock had been the closest thing she'd known to a mother, but even that felt worlds away.

"It's strange," he continued. "I remember her, even though one version of me would never have met her."

"But you did. And you had me."

"The whole thing makes my head hurt. As far as I'm concerned – "

Booker groaned and grabbed his napkin suddenly. He pressed it to his nose. It came away red.

"Oh God. Booker, I'm sorry. I thought this would stop…"

"Don't worry about me. A few bloody noses are nothing if I get to stay with you."

Elizabeth abruptly furrowed her brow. "Booker, are you sixteen?"

"What?"

"Wounded Knee was in 1890. The baptism was right after. I pulled you from your timeline at sixteen."

He shook his head. "No, I was nineteen. They made a mistake on my records. You think Comstock went gray at thirty-eight?"

Across the street, Robert Lutece took a sip from a small cup of coffee. "Is this it?"

"Is it what?"

"Not what. It."

"You're playing with your pronouns again, brother," his double scolded.

"Are they the last pair?"

"Do you mean each of them or the combination?"

"Either. And both."

"No." Rosalind was busy scribbling on a napkin.

"No to which?"

"Either. And both."

"They must be. They will be." Robert took a victorious drink from his coffee.

"There are infinite pairings, brother. There cannot be a 'last pair' if there is no first."

"Do they lie in the middle, then?"

Rosalind stopped writing and pondered. "I suppose it's all middles."

Booker looked to Elizabeth as the server disappeared with their drink order. "What made you ask about what year it was? I thought that was all sort of… arbitrary to you."

"You just… you look so young. I've only known you when you were older."

"I feel like I'm decades ahead. My memories… they're older than my body."

She smiled at him. "You've always been an old curmudgeon."

"I prefer set in my ways."

The server came back to take their orders. Elizabeth gave the request entirely in French, ordering steak frites for him and a croque madame for herself.

"Um, I'll have what she's having," Booker said helplessly.

"I ordered for you already," Elizabeth clarified. The server left, a little confused by the Americans.

Elizabeth glanced across the street. A waitress brought a salmon dish of some sort to an empty table before walking back to the café's main door. She held it open as a broad-shouldered man with the beginnings of gray in his hair passed through with a young woman who made her feel like she was looking in a mirror. Booker followed her gaze.

"Is that us?"

"I think it's a Booker and Anna."

"This stuff is so fucking weird." He picked up the menu absentmindedly, looking for something to distract him.

Elizabeth stared on as the Booker and Anna native to their current universe walked away from the café. "They look happy."

"Happy girl, happy Booker. They're a team. Just like us."

Elizabeth allowed her unspoken worry to come out. "But… you're not my Booker. Not legitimately. I mean, I know you _are_ Booker, but you're also… not."

Booker stared blankly for a moment at her before leaning forward and taking both of her hands. "Elizabeth… Anna… my daughter…" He took his time finding the words. "In any world, there is nothing I wouldn't do for you. I would fight through every Columbia for you, and with this younger body, I'd probably do it even better."

A laugh came out of her first, but then the girl who controlled the multiverse found herself sobbing profusely. This was her Booker. No matter what, she had him. He handed her a handkerchief, and by the time the food arrived, most of the tears were gone. They made only small talk after that, mostly with Booker going on about the perfection of his steak.

When the check came, Elizabeth paid for it with a stack of bills she'd pulled from a tear under the table. The server said something to her, and she laughed it off.

"What was that about?" Booker asked.

"Apparently, we're a beautiful couple."

"Huh."

"I think that's going to happen a lot now with you being… in your prime. It's weird to think that there are people out there who will be imagining us as a couple…"

Booker scoffed. "I was still in my prime when I met you. I had to fend off prophet-loving harlots all over Battleship Bay after you went off dancing."

"I believe you, Dad," she chuckled. They both froze. "I… I don't…" Elizabeth stammered.

"I like it," Booker interjected mercifully. "I don't know about you, but I'm done with being Booker and Elizabeth. I'd just like to be an oddly young man with his oddly adult daughter." He stood up from the table and held out his hand.

"I'd like that, too," she nodded, taking his hand and rising from her seat.

"Where to next, kid?"

She didn't even hesitate. "Home. Paris will always be here."


	5. Home

**This feels like the ending of one story, so this will be the final chapter of "Through the Tear." But fear not, for this Booker and Elizabeth will have other stories soon, as will some of the Bookers and Annas across time. I'll make it clear when a future story is about this pair specifically.**

* * *

"I thought you wanted to live in Paris." Booker stood with his arms crossed. They were in an abandoned warehouse on the Riviera, and Elizabeth was opening various tears, looking for a home.

"I wanted to _visit_ Paris, which I can do at any time now. Besides, you would hate living here." She closed a door to London, 1990.

"I wouldn't hate it…"

"Perfumes and wrist watches and foreign languages don't exactly scream Booker DeWitt."

He raised his voice slightly. "I got nothing against folks who don't speak English. It's just easier on me if they do."

Elizabeth scanned through other tears: Tokyo, 2005; Milan, 1974; Seattle 1989. "We can stay in America, Booker. I'll never get restless. I can always just… visit another life if I need to."

Booker was silent. "Elizabeth, what is it you want?"

She thought about it for a minute before finding the words. "A home with you. It's like you said… I'm tired of being the Lamb of Columbia, the Seed of the Prophet. I just want to be your daughter. A girl with a normal life who happens to be able to bend the multiverse to her will."

"Sounds simple enough." The remark was meant to be light, but there was a sadness behind it as well."

"Booker, what's wrong?"

"You aren't going to like it."

Elizabeth closed the tears around her and focused her attention on him. "You're scaring me."

"I need you to do something. I need you to drop me off."

"What do you mean?"

"Put me back in the timeline. Let me have some time to build us a life."

"I don't… Booker, I don't understand."

"You want some degree of normalcy? Popping up somewhere and setting up shop don't exactly make us residents. Let me work on it. I'll find somewhere, and I'll make a home for you, like I should have done in the first place."

Elizabeth could feel her temperature rising. "If this is about your pride, or some – "

"Elizabeth, something has to be normal. For me, that's setting things right. If I'm going to be your father, I'm going to do it right this time."

"I don't understand. Don't you want to stay with me? I thought we were a team."

"Yes, and I know that now. I don't have to make the same mistakes anymore. I have something to fight for. My daughter will be waiting for me."

Hot tears welled up in her. The air around them began to ripple. "You can't leave me, Booker." The warehouse flickered in and out of existence for a moment. She was losing control.

Then, suddenly, Booker did something. He crossed to his daughter and pulled her into his arms. He held her tight, then kissed her forehead. "I love you."

The flickering stopped. She buried her face in his chest and refused to let go. "I can't do it."

"It'll only be a moment for you. Send me back, and find me again in ten years."

She yanked her head up. "Ten years?!"

"It'll give my body time to age a little. It'll be less creepy if people stop thinking we're the same age."

"You'll still only be twenty-nine."

He shrugged. "I can say I look young for my age."

She gave a sad laugh and pulled away. "Okay. Let's do it, then." She waved a hand, and a portal opened in front of them.

"November 1, 1902. New York City. Union Square."

"That's specific. How do you know you'll be there?"

"I'll make it happen."

She hugged him again. "Be careful."

"I will see you again. I promise."

Booker took a moment before separating from her. He gave her one last kiss on the cheek then stepped through the doorway.

Elizabeth sunk down. She knew she could see him again in an instant, but the weight of what he had done hit her fully. He had chosen to live without her, and even if it was for noble reasons, she couldn't help but feel hurt. What if she opened the tear, and he wasn't there? What if he'd started another family without her? What if there was another Anna?

Elizabeth sat in silence for an hour or so. She ran her hand over the brooch Booker had chosen from the Luteces. She thought about the other Annas and Bookers she had seen in other worlds. No matter what distance or time separated them, he always came back for her.

She stood up and dusted herself off. Elizabeth closed her eyes, and prayed it would work. _Union Square, 1902._ She opened her eyes and knew instantly why Booker had chosen the place. Union Square was a bustling open air market, filled with sweet aromas and delicious looking treats. She wandered through the stands, stopping occasionally to browse the wares that caught her eye. She took her time at a vendor whose stall was composed of a dozen or so barrels of fresh flowers. She picked up a bouquet and inhaled the clean scent. "How much, sir?"

The vendor tried to speak, but a broad-shouldered man in a tailored suit pushed in front of her. "They're on me," he said simply before passing currency to the shop owner.

As he turned around, Elizabeth found herself staring into Booker's face. He was older, as was to be expected, but he was still noticeably younger in body than the Booker who had rescued her from her tower so long ago. His hair was missing any traces of gray, and his face was clean-shaven.

"This is my daughter, Tommy. She just got back from Paris."

"Welcome home, Miss DeWitt," the stall owner said politely.

"Thank you," she managed, still adjusting to the new Booker. Even with her powers, her father could always find a way to surprise her. "You look great, Booker. Happy."

"Let's go home, kiddo." He planted a kiss on her forehead and gave her his arm. As they walked the streets of Manhattan, she realized something that gave her comfort.

There was always a man.

There was always a city

And, for her and Booker, there was always a home.


	6. Author's Note

**Thanks to everyone for reading. If you enjoyed this story, please don't forget to follow me for more. And feel free to vote or PM me about what you'd like to see more of.**


End file.
